


pressed against her

by skaralding



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Guilt, Masturbation, Nonnies Made Me Do It, Rape Fantasy, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:53:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23646469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skaralding/pseuds/skaralding
Summary: The first time Evan found himself thinking of rape as he touched himself, it was—it should have been an accident.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 38





	pressed against her

**Author's Note:**

> Originally [posted on fail_fandomanon](https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/406228.html?thread=2399276500#cmt2399276500) in response to "100 words of men's orgasms being tainted by shame for their violent misogynistic fantasies". I vaguely remember this is one of the 100 words threads that came about due to wank, which means it's extra fitting that I responded to it with fictional wank ;D

The first time Evan found himself thinking of rape as he touched himself, it was—it should have been an accident. He’d read an article in passing, and the description of what had happened caught his eye.

‘…pressed against her.’

‘…was forced to remain, while…’

Usually, he avoided reading articles like that. Sometimes, even the vaguest words drew awful pictures for him, disgusting ones that made his stomach twist and his breath come short.

This time, though, it had snuck in under his radar, a seedy fragment of a larger story about corruption and embezzlement at the administration level of the most prestigious university in the city. Worth reading, he’d thought, if just out of schadenfreude; he’d barely come in under the minimum score for consideration there, after a year of dull, tedious, unending work, memorization and counting and flash cards and every fiber of his being bent towards making something better of himself, something his mother could be proud of.

His mother wouldn’t be proud of him right now. She’d been embarrassed at first, being the one to sit down for the Talk with him, but then she’d done research and started _caring_ about it, and so Evan had been the metalhead trailer trash that people in his grade came to for condoms or because they were worried about a rash.

He was in his bed now, laid out, relaxing after a grueling day reviewing last month’s books for a new client, and even though touching himself like this was a habit, the thoughts that went along with it weren’t.

He just kept thinking, ‘pressed against her’, and thinking of the smooth, stylish skirt Dinah Torrano had worn today. It’d made her big round ass look even better, and her dark eyes had crinkled at the corners with pleasure from all the compliments the other women gave her. _“Date night tonight, right?”_ someone had said, and she’d just smiled to herself without bothering to answer.

It would happen right before she left. In the elevator. Twenty-five floors in the building, and the thing was slow as fuck, something everyone complained about and planned around if they were going to be in a rush.

They would be alone, because…

Anyway, she’d get in and push the button, bending over a little, not at all self-conscious or worried, because Evan was the nice one. Tall, but kept his distance. Blandly Asian, too, which probably helped. Glasses that he’d always hated needing, glasses he’d done without at school because they made him look like a nerd even when his hair was in multicolored spikes.

 _“What…?”_ she would say, when he pressed against her, because she’d think it was maybe a mistake, maybe…

He wouldn’t even take his cock out. Less evidence that way. It would be just him and her, her struggling, panting, whimpering. She’d do her best to try and shield her small breasts from his hands, even as he stroked his cock and rubbed against the ripe curves of her ass.

He wouldn’t say anything. All that would be between them was his harsh, hungry pants, his eager groans. The hum of satisfaction in the back of his throat when he finally made it past the guard of her arms and squeezed her breast. He wouldn’t be able to feel much—or no, he’d be lucky, and she’d only have a thin, lacy layer under her shirt. Her nipple would already be hard, from adrenaline, or maybe from something else.

Fuck, he was already so close. She’d be sobbing. Trembling. Something about the way she was holding herself would click with him, sending a surge of filthy curiosity through him. He’d done some of his own research, after all, after the Talk, all while not thinking too closely about why. Men weren’t the only ones who could get aroused from physical manipulation.

 _“Don’t!”_ she’d cry out, as his hands forced their way down the front of her skirt. And then—inside—and she’d flinch, hard, mortified at herself, and he’d laugh despite himself. She wouldn’t even be that wet, just enough that he could easily sink in a finger. Then two.

 _“Next time, I’m going to fuck you,”_ he’d say, unsteadily. _“I’ll fuck you right here.”_

She would tighten around his fingers. Coming like that while feeling her up would be so good. Her fear, her shame, her disgust.

“Fuck…”

Shivering, Evan turned over, pressing his face into his pillow. The worst part about this wasn’t his thoughts, wasn’t the fact that he ached and needed and felt each harsh stroke in the pit of his stomach. It was all that, and the fact that he hadn’t already come. He needed more. He wanted more. He wanted—

The next time, in her car, or his. He’d have taken a picture of her, or something. She wouldn’t want to do it, but she’d have to, and this time, he’d make her hike up her skirt and he’d lick her through her pale cotton panties, make her thoroughly wet before—

He’d only had sex with one girlfriend, but he still remembered. The tightness, the slick warmth, the gasp of her beneath him, moving minutely with his thrusts, enjoying it.

Only Dinah wouldn’t, not really. She’d be crying, silent, heaving sobs, and it’d only make him harder, make him drive in deep and fast. He’d wear a condom so it would last longer, and it—

Evan arched. Sick satisfaction tore through him. His arms shook; he had to hustle to make sure to catch his come in his hand, instead of staining the sheets. Just thinking of coming in her made him pulse again, helplessly.

Soon enough, he’d gone still. Shame weighed him down, keeping his limbs heavy, making it feel pointless to lift his head from the pillow even though he was kind of having a hard time breathing. When he finally sat up, he realized his face was a little damp, and the pillow was too, and not from come.

“Fucking pathetic,” he murmured, even as he hobbled his way out of bed, heading for the bathroom. “Fuck.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know how you liked it <3


End file.
